Buff
by ChubbyBunny
Summary: Hermione J. Granger has a secret, Draco Malfoy is repentant. Things are about to get complicated. Rated M for language and some sexual content.
1. Chapter 1: Sleeping Habits

Hermione J. Granger was a lot of things, but subtle was never one of them. She'd never been afraid of speaking her mind, fighting dragons, stealing from professors, undressing in front of her friends, or even punching boys in the face. There were only two things in the world that made her queasy: forgetting to brush her teeth, and relationships. Oh there had been the clumsy, first kiss shared with Victor, the even more clumsy, fumbling sexual experiences with Ron, and now she was single. Subtly single.

She awoke this morning from a strange, but not altogether unpleasant dream; something to do with rock candy and a circus elephant. Stretching her arms above her head, she reveled in the feel of cotton sheets against her naked skin. Hermione didn't know exactly when she started sleeping in the buff, sometime around the end of the war when she and the boys shared a tent she thought, and that was simply the result of refusing to sleep repeatedly in her foul smelling walking clothes. She'd cast a charm around herself so the boys only saw her sleeping figure and undress, slipping happily under the rough wool blankets and falling quickly to sleep.

The habit had carried on into her mid-twenties and this was how she found herself waking, slow and happy. And still single.

She'd become lead psychotherapist at St. Mungos and thrived. Not only thrived, but succeeded. Her fellow therapists constantly knocked on her door not only for advice on their own patients, but for themselves. Many of them were her age and had experienced the trauma of war and suffering. They spoke about losing a family member or friend and Hermione would nod solemnly in the way she was supposed to in these situations, all the while repressing the angry burn of all the people _she _had lost in her short lifetime. Tonks. Remus. Fred. Snape. Dumbledore. The list could have stretched miles. Never once had she even considered knocking on the any door in the office, especially the therapist next to hers. His official title was "Therapist to Ex-war veterans and Former Followers of the Dark Arts," and though she often worked in tandem with him, she never would knock on that wooden door with the gold name plaque. Never owe him anything. _Not him. Ever. _It was bad enough he also lived right next door to her in the apartment complex she lived in. And it was worse that he was civil to her. Kind even. They would clock out at the same time every day and nod at one another. Then they would walk the short way to their complex, never speaking although close enough to glance up and meet each other's cautious expressions and occasionally smile in an 'I'm simply being kind enough to acknowledge your presence' manner. He would then open the door to the complex and they would ride the lift together (she usually pressing the button to floor five), and ride in silence. They would step out together and reach their respective doors side-by-side, and every night they would look at each other before heading in. Her eyes a mix of honey and suspicion, his a mix of ashes and repentance. He would nod and say, "Goodnight Granger." And she would smile without feeling and murmur, "Goodnight Malfoy." She would then step inside always before he did, not missing how he watched, and snap the latch shut behind her.

Crookshanks yowled unpleasantly from beside her bed. Hermione glanced over and smiled warmly at him, "Breakfast time?" Her elderly familiar flicked his bushy tail at her in response and shuffled out the bedroom door. Crookshanks exact age was unknown, but Hermione estimated he must have been in his teens. Familiars typically lived far beyond the age of normal pets, but even Crooks was encroaching on that. He still acted like a baby, and did most things of his own free-stubborn-will. He needed the occasional helpful boost onto the sofa, and required mainly soft food now because his teeth were sensitive, but he was Hermione's only confidant at this point and she would do anything to make his golden years comfortable.

Shuffling into the kitchen, she retrieved his bowl and pulled out the food from inside the fridge. She heard a small crinkling noise, and looked around the room for the source. It was only then she noticed the small envelope being pushed underneath the crack of her door. Curious, she left all of Crookshanks breakfast materials on the counter and went to retrieve it. Her last name was scrawled on the front in an all too familiar spikey script and for a moment her heart sputtered in her chest. Malfoy? What did he want? Unlatching the door, she opened it to his receding back heading towards his door and called his last name. He turned, and immediately went slack jawed. Confused by his lack of response, she stepped out of her apartment "Malfoy? Are you okay?" when he didn't respond she took another step closer and noticed the sudden red tint to his skin, "Are you sick? You're as red as a tomato!"

"Shit Granger!" he swore, ripping of the black zip sweater he was wearing. He bum rushed her, and for a moment she thought he would tackle her flat. Instead he wrapped it around her and shoved her back into her entryway and slammed the door in her face, leaving her confused and alone in her apartment. In the strange scuffle she realized she had dropped the envelope by her door, and when she went to retrieve it the jacket slipped from her naked shoulders.

And suddenly she froze. Her mind clacked loudly as the pieces horrifyingly fell into place: She'd gotten up with no robe, opened her door, Malfoy's expression…like he'd seen her…

_Naked. _She. Hermione. J. Granger. Was. Naked. She had answered the door nude. Malfoy had seen her. MALFOY HAD SEEN HER BITS.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth to catch the loud squeak that suddenly erupted from her and fell flat on her bum due to her shaking knees. After some incoherent sputtering and self-loathing, she managed to compose herself and was finally able to rip open the white envelope and read the note inside:

_Granger,_

_ I've had a lot on my mind recently. I want to talk one on one with you if you will allow it. Understandably, I will respect you wishes if you choose to say no. Will you please accept my offer? It can be in a place of your choosing if you are comfortable enough meeting. We have unfinished business. See you in the hallway._

_ Yours,_

_ Malfoy_

With a strangled grunt she thumped her bushy head to the hardwood floor and left it there, suddenly aware that she only had an hour left to get ready to leave for work. With him… like always. He would be waiting outside, leaning casually against the hallway wall looking obnoxiously beautiful and repentant. She silently prayed that he would leave her to her horrified misery and go to work without her, but she knew that was probably not an option. He was always there, always punctual. And now he wanted to talk? This day couldn't get any worse. Hermione finally managed to crawl from the hole that she'd dug, and trudge to the bathroom to find her dignity.

Crookshanks sat on the kitchen stool he'd managed to climb, and was enjoying his breakfast straight out of the can.


	2. Chapter 2: Perfect Pointy Face

Authors Note: Thank you all for the reviews for this silly story. I'm having a lot of fun writing it. Hermione stepping out in her birthday suit is actually based on a true story involving yours truly. An embarrassing incident can sometimes lead to the best plots. Especially when Draco is concerned *swoon.* Reviews and suggestions are always appreciated! Enjoy!

The modesty of her work outfit could only be described as "nun-ish." Long black work trousers, black flats, long-sleeved white colored shirt and a baggy over-sized jumper complete with floppy black hat. Hermione hadn't had the intention this morning to wake up dressed like a depressed poet, but every other outfit she tried made her think, '_Oh, that's too much ankle,' _or '_When Malfoy sees the boat neck on this shirt he'll remember that I have a mole on the right side of my left tits nipple…'_ why she would care about her former enemies opinion on her sexual regions was beyond her at this point, but she would be damned if she let him have the upper hand this time.

A quick glance at the enchanted hourglass on her nightstand told her she had mere minutes before she'd walk out her door and face her fate. "Alright old girl!" she spoke aloud to her reflection in the full length mirror, "Today is going to be a good day!"

The reflection looked at itself incredulously then back at Hermione, "A good day? Are you bleeding mad? I look as though I should be feeding pigeons and muttering swear words to small children at the park!"

Real Hermione rolled her eyes, "It's just a precaution-"

"A precaution?!" the reflection shrieked, pulling at the jumper away from it as though it was covered in feces, "This is called, 'not getting a good lay!' EVER! And this hat? Did you plan on the frizz this is going to cause?! Really woman!"

Hermione stomped her foot in aggravation, temper flaring like an angry volcano, "WELL WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST YOU SAUCY PIECE OF-"

The small chime of the doorbell interrupted the argument and both Hermione's silenced immediately. It was fifteen to nine, Malfoy's usual arrival time to pick her up for the walk to work. Hermione and her reflection sighed simultaneously.

"Should I really lose the jumper?" Hermione asked quietly.

The reflection nodded, "And the hat for the love of Merlin."

Sighing, Hermione pulled off both garments and exited her bedroom and headed to meet her fate waiting outside the front door.

She pulled the door open and there he stood, leaning against the hallway wall looking as obnoxiously beautiful and proud as always. Growing older had suited him. He was tall, much taller than Ron or Harry and had filled out in all the appropriate male places. His pale blond hair was swept back and light stubble graced his angular jawline and cheekbones. His eyes were still grey and flinty, although they seemed far more approachable then Hermione had recalled in their school years. He wore a pair of black trousers, black undershirt and a cobalt blue jumper pushed up to his elbows exposing muscular, lean forearms which were crossed against his chest. He looked at her under his dark lashes, and Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot under his gaze.

"Good morning." He said smoothly.

"Morning." Hermione replied cautiously. She instantly was suspicious; he was acting normal…_too_ normal. Perhaps the shock of seeing her nude had caused him to have amnesia. She hoped so.

Draco raised his back off the wall and tucked his hands into his pocket, "Ready?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Yes."

Neither of them moved. Draco cocked his head slightly, studying her, "Uh, ready when you are."

"Fine." She said curtly, walking past him. Hermione noticed the smirk playing across his lips as he caught up with her stride. She hit the down button for the lift and they waited in silence for the elevator. Though she had never been particularly concerned about being alone with Malfoy, she was suddenly dreading the short ride to the first floor. The lift arrived and they both stepped in, the doors sliding shut with an ominous whoosh.

Hermione made an effort to keep her eyes focused on the stained beige carpet beneath her shoes but she could feel Draco's eyes boring into the side of her face. She sighed and managed a glance up at him, irritated when she found him still smirking at her.

"What?" she hissed, cheeks heating up.

He chuckled and shook his head, "Nothing."

Hermione scowled, "Fine." And went back to staring at the carpet.

The first floor arrived with a ding and they stepped out into the lobby. Draco walked ahead and opened the door for her, and Hermione stepped out into the chilly air of Diagon Alley. Countless witches and wizards ambled up and down the streets in the morning light, trying to get the best deals at the street carts and drinking pumpkin juice at small eateries on the corner. Hermione's stomach growled loudly; she just now realized that she hadn't had a chance to eat breakfast due to the… event that happened this morning. Hermione desperately wanted a meat pasty and tea. As if reading her thoughts Draco asked, "Are you hungry? We still have a few minutes before work, and my first client isn't until nine thirty."

Hermione sighed, "Mine isn't until ten, so alright."

They stopped at a small cart called 'Karlisle's Konfections,' Hermione got her meat pasty with lamb, and Draco got one with beef. Each got breakfast tea and Hermione reluctantly allowed him to pay but only after he'd handed the vendor the money.

"I'll pay you back," she muttered around mouthfuls of breakfast.

Malfoy shrugged, seeming oblivious to her bad manners, "Don't worry about it. I don't mind."

The rest of the walk passed in silence. They entered their building, walked into the office, unlatched their respective doors, and looked at one another. Surprisingly, Hermione felt her heart sputter. _Odd_ she thought. She'd never had that kind of a reaction to his gaze before. Malfoy was looking at her intently, and before she could ask what his malfunction was he walked towards her and stopped mere centimeters from bumping into her body. She gasped in surprise and jumped as Draco plucked a large crumb of pasty from her hair, flicking it unceremoniously to the floor. He raised an eyebrow at her and for a fraction of a second she thought she detected hurt in his eyes.

His shoulders rose and fell with a large sigh, " I wouldn't hurt you, you know." He murmured dejectedly before turning and opening his office door. Malfoy gave her his usual departing nod, and shut the door behind him.

Hermione Granger stood frozen in the hallway uncertain of what just had occurred. No parting shot from him? No commenting on her hygiene? No rude shots at her expense about streaking in front of him this morning? Hell, even calling her a mudblood would have calmed her nerves. She wasn't sure who this Malfoy was, but she was sure something was up. The floor of normalcy was tilting below her sensibly shoed feet, and she _would _find out what his plan was. Unwarranted annoyance bubbled up in her, and it was then she remembered his note and his perfect pointy handwriting to match his perfect face-

_Wait, what? _

_ Where did that come from?_

His pointy face, she rationalized, yes…that was it…that was what she meant. Of course…

"Excuse me, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione swung around towards the voice and shrieked, "He's a pointy faced ferret! That's all I meant! I swear it!"

Mrs. Brickles, the short plump secretary who had a habit of wearing to much purple eye shadow looked entirely unconcerned with the therapist's outburst, "Your ten o'clock just called. He'll be delayed about ten minutes."

Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head, "Oh, yes, yes of course. I'm so sorry Mrs. Brickles… I'm having a rather, well, unusual day."

"Maybe you should talk to _him_ about it," the secretary gestured with her fat thumb towards Malfoy's door, "You know, he's quite easy to talk to and easy on the eyes as well-"

"Oh thank you so much Mrs. Brickles!" Hermione interrupted quickly, "I may just do that... don't you worry…." Hermione let out a small, strange giggle and walked into her office, slamming the door behind her.

Mrs. Brickles looked from Therapist Grangers door to Therapist Malfoys. She harrumphed and muttered, "She needs a good lay." before waddling back down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3: I Need a Drink

Authors note: Hello! Tis I! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Thank you all for your comments, follows, and favorites. This story is developing nicely and this next chapter is my favorite so far. Please stick with me, I promise you wont be disappointed.  
Hugs and kisses!

-C.B.

"And then I says, 'Woman, you don't understand! I'm a man wit needs, and yous ain't givin me what I needs!"

Hermione tapped her quill listlessly on the cherry wood desktop, Mr. Henry Miles was a new client and this was only his second appointment with her. A former death eater, Henry had (like most of the more violent followers of Voldermort) claimed to be under his influence at the time of the war, and the one previous. He had been released from Azkaban and assigned to her under the conditions that Hermione deal with some of his more repressed and disturbing sexual deviancies. "Mr. Miles, I hardly think that your wife refusing to participate in an orgy and let you give anal sex to a minor will fix the issue at hand-"

"Just the tip!" the overweight client insisted, arms flailing to the sides, "What's wrong wit just the tip?!"

The small buzzer in the shape of an egg on the right corner of her desk went off and Hermione sighed, scooting backwards in her chair to stand and shake her client's hand, "Alright Henry, same time next week?"

"Yeah, yeah, "he smiled, taking her extended digits in an uncomfortably firm grasp. She grimaced inwardly with how moist it was. She went to retract her hand, but Henry held firm, "Tell me Ms. Granger, do you like it?"

The small hairs on the back of Hermione's neck suddenly came to full attention and a familiar on-edge persona she hadn't had to use in years began to creep towards the surface, "And what is that Mr. Miles?" she asked in her most nonchalant voice. She thanked whatever deity above that she'd had to presence of mind to throw on her work robe with the wand conveniently located next to her free hand.

The hold around her small fingers tightened considerably and she felt herself begin to be pulled towards his flabby, suddenly very sweaty body, "You know…anal." The last word was spoken in a gravely hushed tone that made Hermione want to vomit.

She pulled harder against the force of his grip, her voice taking on a shrill edge, "Let me go Henry-"

Hermiones' office door flew open and slammed into the wall behind Henry's head, his offending and wet body suddenly being flung across the room in a burst of green light. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, wand at the ready and looking so dangerous that Hermione felt her mouth go dry.

"Draco," his first name rushed past her lips before she could stop it and his steely eyes snapped to hers.

"Come here." His words were a command, and for once in her life she chose not to argue. Shakily, she walked towards him, he reaching out and grabbing her arm to draw her beside him. "Are you alright?" he asked, his free hand roamed up to lift her chin so she would meet his eyes.

"Y-yes," she stammered, turning to look towards Henry's body which now lay thoroughly buried under her bookshelf, "What did you do to him?"

Malfoy snorted and smirked, "Nothing he didn't deserve. The authorities are already on their way."

Hermione took a deep breath and murmured, "Thank you. And yes."

The blonde man beside her raised an eyebrow, "Yes? To what?"

"Your note. Let's talk."

Surprise spread across his face and for a moment Hermione wondered if he'd forgotten the note altogether. It would only be understandable considering the… well, unwitting strip show she'd given him this morning, "Or if you changed your mind I understand," she said flippantly, flapping her small hand in the air, "You know, we could just forget this whole morning ever happened if you wanted,"

"Granger," Draco started.

Henry Miles groaned under the hefty bookshelf and began to shift. Hermione swung around, taking the wand out of her pocket and calmly chanted, "Stupify." The movement stopped immediately and she turned back to Malfoy who was eyeing her curiously, that damn pointy perfect eyebrow arched again. "Anyways," she continued, straightening her robes and placing her wand back inside the pocket, "We should probably step outside, the police will be here soon and they won't want us in their way to be sure. Oh no, that will not do at all. So, if you don't mind I'm ready to head home. And you don't have to walk me if you don't want to, I understand your quite busy and-"

To her surprise, Draco began to laugh. And not just any laugh, but a deep one; a laugh that rumbled somewhere in the confines of his narrow torso, and came out of his mouth with his obnoxiously straight teeth in bass musical notes. Why she was coming up with all of these crazy analogies she couldn't guess.

At least not this early in the story.

After the initial shock of hearing what sounded like the farts of adorable baby angels coming out of her once school yard enemy seemingly at her expense, she began to bristle, "And just what is so funny?"

Continuing to chuckle, he crossed his arms and shook his head at her "YOU are funny. Here we are standing in your office, where you were almost molested may I add, the offender is laying under your bookshelf being smashed by your inconceivable amount of tree carcasses bound in dead animal skins,"

Feeling back to her old haughty self, Hermione stamped her foot, "They are called books Malfoy, some of them are quite valuable and he is sweating on them! Destroying them may I add!"

Draco continued, still smiling, "And all you can seem to think about is how I saw you in the hall this morning."

Hermione stopped breathing in that instant, her face suddenly heating. A hefty silence filled the room.

"You know Granger," the blonde wizard took a step back towards the door and motioned for her to follow, "You shouldn't be embarrassed about it. We've only known each other since we were eleven. Now, you agreed to my note. Where shall we go to talk?"

After another long pause, Hermione rolled her eyes and walked out in front of him, "Anywhere I can get a damn drink and forget today ever happened."

"Three broomsticks?"

She sighed, "Yes, yes, fine."

The ministry police were in the lobby, and after a brief explanation from both Hermione and Draco of what had occurred they both continued out of the building and back onto the street. The tinges of night had just begun to fall, the sky turning a mix of navy and pink. Though Hermione had never said it out loud before, this was the time of day that scared her the most. When she and the boys were out in the woods by themselves and Seekers were roaming about, she knew that under the cover of night they were more vulnerable than ever before. She'd lay naked and awake in her cot for hours, or until dawn was beginning to break over the horizon because she knew if there was at least a little light they would have a chance and wonder how much time they had left, that everyone had left.

She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. Malfoy glanced down, his pale skin glowing under a street lamp. It disturbed her to know that even if it was for only a brief moment this made him look like his old self; a cold statue and that this softer and much warmer Malfoy walking beside her was only an illusion, "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine." She lied.


	4. Chapter 4: Cinnamon and Vanilla

Authors Note:

Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update. Thank you for sticking with this story. Things are about to start heating up this next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it ;) Reviews and suggestions are always appreciated!

They apparated together, and broke contact as soon as they touched foot in Hogsmead. Hermione had been shocked when Draco had wrapped his arms around her in order to transport, and it unnerved her when she realized how warm he was.

_How real._

She cleared her throat and brushed off her pants, "Not bad, a little bumpy but at least you didn't splice us."

Draco scowled, "You could at least say thank you. It did take a lot of concentration to make sure all of your bits and pieces were still attached."

Color rose in Hermione's cheeks at the word _bits_. How would she ever live this morning down? Even though he hadn't mentioned it, she knew it was bothering him to. She wished she could just bring it up and get it over with, so she ran through how it may play out.

_'Granger,' thought Draco would say_

_'Malfoy?' Hermione would drawl._

_And he would look at her with a sneer, long fingered hands resting on his hips, "I saw you. NEKID."_

_She would draw back in mock horror, hand flying to her breast, "Oh! Heaven forbid! Did my mudblood skin burn your eyes? Weaken your sensitive constitution? It's only good I didn't see your smarmy, naked, lily white arse cheeks! It may have blinded me! If you don't like mine, bugger off!"_

_And then Malfoy would cry. The end._

Truth be told, it sounded much easier in her head. The Malfoy etched in her brain was still eleven years old on the inside and vengeful. This _Draco _who now stood looking down at her with a mild expression was a stranger, and it frightened her. She wasn't sure how to deal with him anymore, and the frailty she felt radiating off him at certain times was almost draining. It didn't help he was bloody gorgeous to boot.

Hermione sighed and shrugged her shoulders, "Are you ready for that drink? Or are you tired? You still have a chance to get out of this you know."

Malfoy smirked and stuffed his hands in his pockets, "And miss the chance to see you piss faced? Never."

"All have you know," Hermione wagged her finger at him, "I don't get piss faced. I get chummy. It sounds much nicer." She turned on her heel and was surprised at how close he walked beside her, his elbow in constant contact with her robe. "How about you? Are you one for benders?"

"I don't drink much actually," he opened the pub door for her, a sudden rush of heat smacking them both in the face, "I'll have a pint or two and I'm tuckered out for the rest of the month. Go find a spot to sit and I'll get us a drink. What do you want?"

Hermione weighed her options; did she want to get shit faced? Or stay somewhat classy? "I'll have a mead."

Malfoy nodded and headed towards to bar while Hermione waded her way through the full tables of patrons. The air was stuffy and ripe with the smell of liquor and pheromones. The small table near the back wall closest to the fireplace called her name, and after almost knocking over another couples drinks she finally fell into the rickety wooden seat. Her eyes found Malfoy hunched over the old wooden bar speaking to Rosmerta, who despite gaining several pounds over the years still looked beautiful. It didn't escape her notice that the patrons standing closest to him had moved away several inches. A strange feeling knotted in the pit of her stomach, and she wondered if he realized that no one wanted to be near him. It angered her, and she suddenly found herself back on her feet and blundering through the narked crowd to reach him, to reassure him somehow she didn't find him disgusting or foul. That he was rather…

_Wonderful_. _Kind. _

She reached the bar and saddled up beside him, shooting a dirty look at the younger wizard who had moved away in disgust. Draco raised an eyebrow at her, and handed her her mead.

"Thanks!" she chirped and took a hold of his sleeve, "I found us a spot." Draco found himself being tugged across the floor as the sea of wizards and witches parted at their approach until they reached their table. Hermione removed her robe, hanging it on the back of the chair and settling down in the seat as Draco eyed her and sat down in the chair beside her.

"What was that all about?"

Hermione took a long swig of her mead, wincing as it went down with a burn, "What do you mean?"

Her blonde companion scowled and cocked his head over his shoulder back towards the bar, "That little show over there."

Another long swig of mead concealed her answer which sounded like, "Glug, mmm-hmm-hmm, glug."

Draco raised his own pint and muttered, "Bloody Gryffindor."

An infuriated clang of glass on the table accompanied Hermione's groan, "Oh Merlin not this again, I was only-"

"If you don't think I know that no self-respecting wizard or witch wants to be within three feet of me you'd be disillusioned." He was looking at her under his lashes again, and she was surprised at how dark they were, the firelight casting an almost inhuman glow from somewhere deep inside of him and radiating into her, pulsating with something familiar and terrifying. A small sneer curled his upper lip as he brought his pint up to sip, "I know what I am. And I know what you are. I may cast a concealment charm on my arm so no one sees that stain, but I know it's there. I can feel it. It moves under my skin and itches at my brain. Those dimwits at the bar know it's there, and so do you. I can be as pleasant to you as I can be, and you'll never see me any different."

Hermione looked down at the stained wooden table top, face burning with her simmering temper, "You're not being fair-"

"Before this morning, when did you speak to me for more than a minute straight?" he asked, "I've walked you to work every morning and night for the past year, and you've barely looked at me or acknowledged me."

"You've never spoken to me either!" she hissed, small hand gripping the mug handle, "I don't know what to do with you! You've never seemed like you cared!"

Draco chuckled, shaking his head "You have no idea."

This caught Hermione off guard. She raised an eyebrow, "Do you mean, 'you have no idea how much I don't care?' Or 'you have no idea how much I do care?'"

Malfoy paused, grey eyes shifting from his hands up to her face, "What do you think?" his voice was low, and Hermione found herself leaning towards him to hear. He was suddenly so close, and he smelled so good Hermione forgot herself in the moment. She caught a whiff of his jumper, he smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. Spicy and sweet. A sudden warmth spread through her nether regions and her mind wandered.

_His full bottom lip suckling hers…_

_His long fingers pushing her shirt off of her shoulders…_

_Naked chest brushing against her hardened nipples…_

"You smell like a man," she murmured and reared back when he barked out a laugh.

"Well what else would I smell like? A salamander?" he smiled and Hermione realized he also had perfect, white teeth, "I'm pleased to know you've finally acknowledged my extreme masculinity."

Huffing, Hermione wanted to slump back in her chair, but found herself unable to move from his aura. This was getting out of hand. She had to find a way to stop these silly delusions. He was as inconspicuous as the paint on the hallway wall that he leaned against waiting for her in the mornings. She'd never thought those lewd things about him before, never noticed his exterior parts.

_Hadn't she?_

In truth Draco Malfoy was as inconspicuous as a charging Hippogriff and as invisible as a castle wall. He was impossible not to notice as made evident by the bar patrons who were still glancing uneasily towards their table. His pale blonde hair shone like tarnished gold against the warm firelight, his ivory cheeks suddenly filled with color and heat and life. Never before had this _man_ beside her seemed so animated and alive. She realized, with some dismay, that at this second she wanted nothing more than to touch him and feel the hot blood pulsing in the vein on his neck. To feel his heart beat vibrating against her breast and to run her tongue along his skin to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

Malfoy had spoken something but she hadn't heard it. "What?" she asked and her voice sounded small, timid.

"I asked what you were doing." There was no malice in his soft words although she was practically in his lap, her mouth so close to his that she could feel the puff of his breath on her lips.

"I'm, I'm not sure." She whispered, heat rising in her face. There was no doubt in her mind that this had gone too far.

He nodded sagely, grey eyes locked onto her brown honey ones, "Neither am I."

"Why did you write the note?" she murmured, shivering as his hand came in contact with her exposed neck. He traced a finger down to the collar of her shirt and looked almost ashamed.

"To talk to you." His admission had cost him something, she could feel that.

He was closer now, any more and their lips would be brushing against one another's. The heat was almost unbearable, her voice had almost no sound now but he heard her loud and clear. "Who are you?"

His bottom lip touched her top, and it quivered a little as he whispered, "Whoever you want."


	5. Chapter 5: Concussions and Confessions

Authors note:

Hello everyone! Thank you for sticking with this story. Only a chapter or two left after this one. I've found this one difficult to write for some reason, and have been trying to take my time and enjoy it. Please favorite and comment! Suggestions are always appreciated :)

~C.B

The moment was quickly broken by a shower of luke-warm fire whisky being spilt down Hermione's back, which in turn set forth an awkward series of events. Letting out a startled shriek, she flung her arms up over her head and struck Draco in his perfect, pointy nose. Hermione then fell backwards in her chair, slamming into the hardwood floor. Through the sea of stars before her eyes, she saw Draco's hands cupping his chin as bright red blood flowed from his nostrils like a burst tap. He appeared to be berating a bladdered, overweight male bar patron. Although her sense of hearing had suddenly gone wonky, she could foggily pick out her blonde companions voice through the thrumming between her ears,

"Drunk prick…you're sauced!...don't give a damn if you bumped into her… s'not that crowded! if you've hurt her… mine…"

Mine.

_Mine._

Although she had a lump the size of Gringotts forming on the back of her scalp, Hermione felt like getting up and dancing a jig right there on the bar. Or maybe it was because she had a lump. She wasn't quite sure at this point in the story as she was almost positive she had a mild concussion.

And then she felt a hot puff of breath on her earlobe, and a deep voice behind it, "Hermione, are you alright? I'm going to pick you up now."

Blearily she blinked her eyes, and forced Draco's face to come into view. His hair was tousled across his forehead, grey eyes blazing with repressed anger and concern, lower half of his face smeared pink with blood. She'd never seen him look so sexy.

"My hero." She groaned as he scooped her up and off the dirty floor.

He chuckled as they exited through the bar doors, "Hero? That's a word I would have never expected you to keep in your lexicon filed under my name."

She "mmffd." Into his sweater, desperate to keep the world from spinning, "Shut up or I'll take it back."

Another chuckle, "Hang on Granger, I'm going to apparate now. Don't move."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Hermione groaned. The world spun suddenly, and she shut her eyes tighter, clutching to him for dear life before they stopped with a jolt.

The familiar smell of her living room filled her nostrils, and Hermione breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

"You alright?" Draco asked, and tenderly brushed a curl from her face.

Opening her eyes to quickly was what did her in. Or maybe it was her slight concussion. Maybe her nerves had something to do with it. It could have been drinking mead on an empty stomach as well. All of these ideas came to late however as Hermione's stomach lurched and emptied on Draco's shoes and her carpet.

There was an uncomfortably long pause after the ejection of her innards, and Hermione felt possibly more humiliated than she had in her entire life. Blinking slowly, she shifted her eye's to his. He looked back at her and raised a pointy eyebrow.

"I-I'm so sorry…" Hermione could feel a blubbering session coming on, her eye's beginning to sting with tears, "I hit my head hard, and I'm hungry, and you're bloody beautiful and I've mucked up your shoes and they look expensive and I will buy you another pair-"

"Granger-"

"I don't know what's gotten into me, and I apologize for crawling into your lap at the pub like some tactless tart and for streaking in front of you this morning, you must think terribly of me-"

"Granger-"

"I don't know where all of these feelings are coming from, and it's moving so fast and oh good gracious I'm so embarrassed I feel like I might throw up again-"

_"Hermione."_

It wasn't the fact that he'd used her given name to call her attention, it was the tone behind it. Long ago when they were in school together, she would have expected him to spit on her whenever he saw her, or maybe would will her to spontaneously combust in an acrid poof of hair. It was no secret that pureblood Malfoy hated mudblood Granger, and that any tone of voice he used with her could have made milk curdle, and make small infants cry.

But this Draco who was holding her in her own stink didn't sound like he wanted her impending death. There was no resentment, no disguised undertone of distrust or malice. In fact it sounded rather like…

"Love, you have a rather bad bump on your head, and we need to get you cleaned up. Can you stand to go change?"

Owlishly she stared at him and nodded.

Draco shot her a small smirk, and somehow managed to navigate holding her and grabbing his wand. He waved it at the rather smelly mess below them and "Evanesco'd," it into nothingness. Turning his attention back to her, he asked, "Where is your bedroom?"

"Erm," suddenly Hermione's mouth had forgotten how to navigate around her tongue. In her current state, she knew nothing should be sexy. Malfoy should have dropped her the minute she spewed and headed for the hills. But he didn't, and now the word 'bedroom' sounded like the most obscenely arousing word in the dictionary. Maybe she'd hit her head harder than she'd originally thought.

A loud yowling came from to their left, and out of the room in question came Crookshanks. Draco chuckled, "You still have that thing?"

"That _thing_ is my Crookshanks," Hermione said, beginning to push away from Draco, "And you'd do best to not insult him or,"

"Alright, alright," Draco grinned and bobbed her up once gently in his arms to quiet her, "I'm sorry." he turned to walk into her bedroom.

Hermione began to panic, had she left anything embarrassing out? She knew she was fairly good about throwing dirty laundry into the hamper, but you never knew if something escaped onto the floor. Her lamps which she had charmed to light upon her entering flickered and came to life, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at her clean floor, the bed was unmade but at least that made the room look lived in and homey. Draco carried her to the bed, and laid her down carefully with her head on a pillow. He lingered over her, suddenly looking very unsure, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've made the biggest muck up of my life," Hermione smiled, "So, pretty normal actually. I'm sorry about your nose, does it hurt?"

Draco sat on the edge of the bed beside her and chuckled, "Well, you've punched me in the nose once before, so I have to say I'm used to it. You have a mean right hook."

Hermione laughed and then winced as the stinging radiating from the lump on the back of her head spread through her brain and into her forehead. He was suddenly above her again, long fingers tangling in her curly hair and thumbs rubbing gentle circles on her temples. Their eyes locked together and Draco's movements stilled, then began slowly again. "Silly woman," he murmured, "You scared me."

"Scared you?" she repeated, eye's slowly beginning to drift shut as his fingers massaged her skin. He caressed from her temples down to her cheekbones, from her cheekbones to her chin, from her chin to her lips and stopped once more. It hadn't registered to Hermione until that moment that the lights had dimmed themselves, and everything besides the sound of Draco's breathing and the heartbeat pounding in her ears had gone silent.

The way he was looking at her now made Hermione feel like she was melting into a hot puddle. His grey eyes were almost black in the dim light, his chin still lightly smeared with dried blood, and his hair looked so soft she couldn't help but reach out and caress the lock hanging over his forehead. Draco made a small noise, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes, looking almost pained, "Hermione, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she repeated softly, still brushing back the wayward lock of hair, "For what?"

"For everything. For when we were younger, for the way we are now, for never speaking to you until today. I should have done so many things to express how I feel to you, and writing that silly, childish letter was the only way I knew I could grab your attention you ridiculous little bookworm."

Hermione's fingers stilled, the silky golden strands of hair wound between them "How…how _do_ you feel exactly?" the heartbeat in her chest pumped louder beneath her sensible blouse.

Draco raised his eyes to hers, "Let me show you."


End file.
